


Clothe Me, Throw Me, Move Me

by nepetrel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Catboys & Catgirls, Dubious Consent, Enemy Soldier Undercover as Palace Guard/Abused Catboy Harem Slave - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 21:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nepetrel/pseuds/nepetrel
Summary: "Want to try him out instead? I've noticed you like him.”Diren gave Isen a sharp look, but Isen merely had the pleased look of someone offering a gift he knew was well-chosen. Diren supposed he had been rather unsubtle in his admiration, and it hardly broke his cover, but. “The king's harem is meant for the king and his princes only,” he said carefully.





	Clothe Me, Throw Me, Move Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow_lover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_lover/gifts).



Despite everything, the calling of the palace guard remained an orderly affair. Captain Werem had spent morning after morning for nearly a decade assigning duties without pause, and he wasn't going to let a small thing like a succession crisis interfere with that. So when he came to an order that was sure to cause chaos, he acted in his usual manner – as if this were an inconvenience for someone else. Today it was an inconvenience for Diren. 

“Prince Soren has ordered you to a mandatory sweep of the southern wing. Prince Isen has ordered your presence at his chambers,” Werem told him with no more sympathy than if he were telling Diren he'd been assigned to the palace gardens, then immediately moved onto the next guard. 

For most guards, this would pose quite the challenge. Angering either prince was a bad idea generally, but doubly so when no one was sure which of them would be king next. The palace guard especially were not meant to give even the appearance of taking sides, not while things remained civil and neither brother had tried assassinating the other yet, and there was little way to avoid doing so when ignoring one prince to answer another.

For Diren it was much simpler. He obeyed the prince he was meant to have killed.

In this case, this required the long march through the length of the palace to Prince Isen's chambers, and whatever chaos awaited him there. Early on in his time as a guard Diren had made sure to become known to Prince Soren as a stalwart loyalist and to Prince Isen as a shameless opportunist; the two interacted so rarely and saw the world so differently that putting on both acts was hardly an issue. Soren had unfortunately never taken Diren into his confidences, keeping them close to his chest or perhaps sharing them only with other noble boys his age, but he had faith that his lord had someone else working on him. At least Isen was always happy to have an extra witness to his continuing breakdown. 

“My prince,” Diren said at Isen's door. “It's Diren.”

Another guard opened the door for him, and as it swung fully open Diren realized it was Tiro, who did not grimace merely because he did not have a face made for expressing emotion. Isen had the habit of picking favorites – useful for Diren, but awful for someone like Tiro, who had had to stand at the door with a neutral expression every time Isen sobbed over his father's prone form or drank to forget he existed. Tiro believed in the decorum of royalty a bit too much for it to be a good fit for him, and it showed if one knew him well enough. Diren clapped him bracingly on the shoulder in acknowledgment of it and moved further into the chamber.

And stopped. 

Isen had made it to his sitting room table, but no further than that – he was dressed in nothing but a loose sleeping robe and the food on his table remained untouched, though the bottle of wine beside it was nearly empty. He leaned back in his chair, resting his face on his hand, and between his legs was Vero. From this angle Diren could see only the dark sweep of his hair and the beautiful way his bare shoulders curved forward to keep Isen's cock in his mouth, but that was enough. Diren could hardly tear his eyes away from him.

Isen did not seem to have this problem, immediately turning to wave Diren in closer. “Diren! Excellent timing. I've been dreadfully bored all morning. I've had this one warming me, but he's not very good at it, unfortunately.” 

Now that he was closer, Diren could see the full arch of Vero's spine and his incredible dark-furred ears, which did not flatten at the insult but stayed upright, neutral except for their occasional twitch. Isen hadn't been the only bored one, it seemed. 

“You have plenty of options, if that one doesn't suit,” Diren murmured. It was true; Isen had a harem of his own, for all that he loved to ignore it and go sampling the king's like a boy sneaking in to try suits out of his father's closet. Isen just laughed.

“I do, don't I?” Isen sank deeper into his hand. “You know, this was a victory for me at first. I came to him that first night, after father – anyway. The damn boy tried to bite me. Told me he was meant for one man, as if that was his choice to make. I had him punished, of course, and now I've had my cock in his mouth for an hour without so much as a nip.” He sighed, pulling out. “Some things just aren't any fun once you actually have them. Ah well. Want to try him out instead? I've noticed you like him.” 

Diren gave Isen a sharp look, but Isen didn't look like a man giving a threat; he had the pleased look of someone offering a gift he knew was well-chosen. Diren supposed he had been rather unsubtle in his admiration, and it hardly broke his cover, but. “The king's harem is meant for the king and his princes only,” he said, keeping his tone measured just enough that it could be read as teasing, if Isen was in the mood. 

Isen was in some kind of mood, at least. He gazed across the room, staring through Tiro at the door. “I don't see how that matters anymore,” he said finally. He fumbled for his wineglass, unsteadily tossing back the dregs that remained within it. “Father's getting worse every day.” 

Diren was intensely proud of that; the poisonmaker had been from his hometown. “I'm sorry,” he said. “It must be awful, hearing him suffering like that.” 

“It is,” Isen said bluntly, then nudged Vero with his foot. “Well, are you taking him or not?” 

Diren hesitated. Isen admitting that his father wouldn't get better was progress, of a sort – he was supposed to have killed his father already, out of pragmatism or mercy, and it was his damn unwillingness to act that had left Diren's time undercover so extended and had forced them to rework so many plans. On the other hand, Isen was in no mood to be pushed, and Vero was...well.

“I will if you'll eat something,” Diren said, to play his part, and Isen laughed at him. But he picked up his knife and fork, making a show of stabbing at his food, and waved at Diren to take a seat.

Diren sat in the chair across from Isen, waiting for Vero to come to him. And he did, slowly crawling the distance between them, his ears pushed sulkily down as he stopped between Diren's legs. He fit so beautifully there, lithe where Diren was broad and nearly a head shorter than him besides. Diren reached out slowly to touch his mouth and Vero let him. It was so red and raw. Isen hadn't been joking about using him for an hour. Diren pressed down on Vero's swollen lower lip and his mouth opened with a gasp, letting Diren rest just the tip of his thumb inside. His mouth was so hot, and when Vero's tongue reached out to meet him, Diren burned too. 

“Well?” Isen said, chewing noisily. “You don't have to seduce him.” 

Vero's ears flicked up before returning to their angry flatness, and if Diren had such an expressive pair his would have too; he'd nearly forgotten they weren't alone for a moment there. But that was dangerous; Isen's interruption was for the best. Diren kept him in mind as he opened his robes and pulled the waist of his pants down. He was already halfway hard just from touching Vero at all, and Vero was quick to help him along, leaning forward towards Diren's cock with his mouth open and his dark eyes glaring directly into Diren's. 

The inside of Vero's mouth nearly undid him. That one touch he'd had didn't prepare him for its silky heat, for the way Vero's tongue darted out to lave the underside of his cock. Diren reached out to touch Vero's ears, and Vero let go of his cock, flinching back; but Diren only pet them, not pulling as he'd seen Isen do, and Vero returned to his task, sucking Diren as if he was the only obstacle between Vero and freedom. Diren trailed his fingers over the silky edges of Vero's ears. The whole time they stayed near-flat in anger; Diren had to curl his fingers all the way in to feel the undersides. 

Isen had told him once, in that detached way he got when talking about his father, that Vero had been the king's favorite, that he had sat nightly by his feet and been fed sweet berries from the king's fingers. That was what a beautiful boy like Vero deserved, not to be fed some hotheaded prince's cock daily or passed off to a palace guard like last season's fashions. He wasn't going to get that here, but if everything – 

Vero took him in to the root and kept him there for a long moment before swallowing around the head of his cock, giving it open-mouthed kisses before returning to take him back in fully, inch by torturous inch. He kept his hands behind him the whole time, less out of show than out of habit, probably, and didn't close his eyes once, watching Diren with the slow anger he could never show Isen, an honesty that was just for Diren. 

– if everything worked according to their hastily-made second plan, if Diren could remove Isen from the line of succession one way or another, his lord had promised him a standing of his own. Enough money to leave the army for good and enough prestige to have his own household with its own small harem. And if it all worked out, no one could blame him for taking Vero as well. It would be his due. It would be – 

Diren cursed and came, then froze a moment later; had he cursed in his native tongue? But it didn't matter; he'd been quiet enough that Isen wouldn't have heard either way, and only now did Isen put down his fork, staring intently at Diren as Vero licked up every last drop of his come. 

“I was studious, you know,” Isen said slowly. “Before. I loved reading histories, and I would get so involved in them that my father had to remind me to eat. But since – since what happened with my father, you're the only one left who notices if I don't eat enough, or asks me how I'm doing and really cares what the answer is. You're the only friend I have,” Isen slurred. “And you can see I treat my friends well. Stay by my side and you'll see a lot more of that.”

Diren looked down, hoping to share a quick incredulous glance with Vero, but Vero's look was something else – assessing, or maybe calculating – before quickly fading into his usual stiff neutrality, his ears standing tall but relaxed. Diren pet them anyway, running his thumb over the alert edge of one. It was soft as velvet. “I promise I'll be with you until the end,” he said to Isen, and thought very hard about how soon that would be.


End file.
